


Ivar Drabbles

by EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, high school dance au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-22 21:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash/pseuds/EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash
Summary: Drabbles and blurbs, often written to fill requests and prompts on tumblr. each chp is stand alone (unless otherwise stated)





	1. school dance AU

**Author's Note:**

> high school dance AU

 

> _prompt: Hiii! can I request “Be you. No one else can.” with Ivar?? thanks!!_

With a sigh you slumped forward, resting your chin on your palm as you sat on the nearly empty bleachers that lined walls of the gym and watched everyone else dance and have fun. You had been laughing with your friends but when the tempo of the music dropped they were one by one invited to the dance floor until finally you found yourself alone on the bench.

School dances were dumb anyway, why’d you even bother coming? You’d had fun getting ready—doing your makeup and goofing around with your friends—but once you’d all arrived at the gymnasium that didn’t seem to matter. Though your friends did their best to keep you involved, slowly your temporary confidence was leached away.

As each one was approached they would hesitantly glance at you. You could read the flashing expression easily, they wanted to go but not feel guilty about leaving you alone. You could understand, and were happy for them, giving them a nod the suitor wouldn’t notice but was a clear ‘Ok’ between friends. And so they would hurry off, leaving you alone.

Glancing down the bleachers you took count of the others who had been left out. You spotted Ivar at the end of the bench, sitting hunched over with his forearms resting in his crutches as he also studied the crowd.You didn’t know him too well though he was in your history class—he sat towards the back of the room, out of your sight. Still, he always made his presence known through snide remarks. He wasn’t exactly mean or a bully, but he would be the first to correct anytime someone got a date or fact wrong, even if it was the teacher.

You let your gaze linger too long and he seemed to realize you were watching. His head snapped to the side, turning to look directly at you. Shifting slightly you tried to look as if you had been looking at nothing and not blatantly staring at him. It was too late, you could see as grabbed the handles of his aides and hoisted himself from his seat.

Cursing yourself in your head, you tried to think of what to say, an alibi that would keep him from being too spiteful in response. Before you could form a cohesive plan, he was standing before you. He rolled his shoulder, balancing himself to rest on his feet as you looked up through your lashes.

“Come on get up,” he snapped, catching you by surprise as he jerked his head up.

“What?” You were slightly taken aback and confused by his order, reeling in response as you looked at him. “Listen, I know I’m sitting here alone like a sad sack, but its ok, you don’t have to ask me to dance.”

Ivar rolled his eyes but stayed where he stood. “Do you really think I’m asking you to dance?” he questioned with raised eyebrows, nodding towards his crutches. “I have a joint I was gonna go smoke, I thought I’d invite you but since you’re too busy…” he trailed off, pivoting to head for the exit.

“Wait!” You shot up from your seat while he froze, “I’ll join you.” He didn’t turn around but continued forward, allowing you to fall instep next to him.

None of the chaperones paid Ivar any mind as the pair of you passed, heading for the door without question. “Where are we going?”

Ivar didn’t respond, just continued making his way down the dirt path along the soccer field, stopping only once he had rounded the old oak tree. Using the handles of his crutches he plopped himself on the ground before reaching into the breast pocket of his coat.

You maneuvered to sit next to him, making sure to tuck your skirt underneath yourself. Ticking the rolled joint between his lips, Ivar lit the end and took a series of pulls until the joint was burning evenly. Carefully pinching the crutch he lifted it from his mouth and passed the joint to you.

“So if it wasn’t pity, why did you ask me?” You questioned after a puff, returning the joint.

Ivar gave a non-commital shrug as he french inhaled, delaying his answer. “I see you in class sometimes, and you don’t try to be like everyone. You don’t mind disagreeing with people in class discussion.”

You couldn’t fight back the smile that his word drew on your face. “Growing up, my father,” you began, before taking two puffs quickly before passing—not trying to hog the joint while talking. “My father always told me ‘be yourself, because no one else can,’ and I’ve always taken that to heart.”

He gave a quick face as he considered the words, seeming to agree. Picking up his crutches he anchored the rubber feet in the dirt, using the leverage to lift himself up.

“Where are you going?” you asked, watching as he found his ballance.

“I was going to get some waffles.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, now moving to stand up yourself. “I guess I’ll see you in class after winter break then.”

“You’re not coming with me?” His head whipped to the side, looking at you over his shoulder while you adjusted the skirt of your dress.

“D-do you want me to?” His question caught you completely off guard, this was the last thing you’d expected tonight.

“I’m hungry, aren’t you?” He gave you an incredulous look like everything that was happening was completely normal, like you and he went out for late night waffles all the time.

“Yeah, kind of,” you admitted with a shrug, deciding on a whim to just roll with it.

“Ok then, let’s go.”


	2. bar au

> _1 for the "right to the good parts" prompt list with Ivar!_

It seemed the impossible had happened. Ivar Lothbrok was not only in a good mood, he was smiling and laughing. None of his brothers could believe it, and yet here they sat drinking with him.

They had expected him to show up with the usual rain cloud over his head. “Why even bother inviting him? He hates christmas, he’ll just ruin the night,” Sigurd complained when they were making plans for the seasonal bar crawl, but he had been proven wrong. Ivar met them at the bar promptly on time—as he always did—the only difference was he arrived with a big smile, and a brand new wheelchair.

It had been purchased as an early Christmas gift to himself. Ivar had always hated using a wheelchair but he’d never had one like this. This chair was compact, making it easier to maneuver in tight spaces like his apartment. With no armrests and a lower backrest he was allowed him more range with his arms, but his favorite detail out of all of them, was the lack of handles. No one could push him around now, even literally.

Nothing could bring Ivar down, he continued to smile even as ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ started playing for the fiftieth time in the bar.

“Twenty bucks his good mood doesn’t last the evening,” Sigurd offered with a scoff after Ivar had excused himself to use the bathroom.

“Don’t be an ass, Sigurd,” Ubbe grumbled, lifting his stout to take a sip and rolling his eyes at the younger brother’s bet.

“Yeah, can’t you just be happy for him once?” Hvitserk shrugged and gestured loosely in the direction Ivar had gone. “He can get around better now, and you’ve seen the blisters he gets from using his crutches too much.”

“Too late,” He mumbled into his drink while watching Ivar from across the room. Sigurd could see what was going to happen before it did, the other two turned to look just in time.

You’d gone out for drinks after work with friends, trying to unwind before returning home to your family for the holidays. “Ok just one picture real quick. Come on, you know my mom’s gonna ask about you guys.” Pulling out your cell phone, you moved to fit all three of them into the frame. Without paying attention you took two steps back and tumbled over straight into a stranger’s lap.

You froze as you made eye contact with him—finding his vibrant blue eyes, angular cheeks, and full lips distracting—as you stuttered out an apology. Finally gathering your wits, you moved to stand but two hands you hadn’t noticed on your hips held you in place.

“It’s quite alright.” He smiled, studying you as much as you studied him. “I, uhm,” his eyes flicked to the side as he spoke, taking account of your friends very intently watching the pair of you. “I’m here drinking with my brothers, would you all want to join us?”

He stifled a groan as you bit your lip and turned to quickly confer with the others. Each of them agreed and gathered their drinks as you moved to stand, but again he prevented it.

“I’ll give you a ride,” he offered with a smirk, his hands only leaving your waist to grab the rims of the wheels.

Ivar’s brothers couldn’t believe the sight before their eyes. They had expected him to respond violently to the intrusion of his personal bubble—shoving the girl to the ground and causing a ruckus which they would inevitably have to intervene—but that never came. Instead they watched as he confidently returned to the table with a woman in his lap, followed by three others.

“You’re gonna owe us both twenty by the end of the night,” Hvitserk hissed to Sigurd before turning to greet the new company.


	3. Firday Night Prompt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt for a modern AU of Ivar and Sibley

> Ivar x Sibley. Modern AU. Stepping out of a party for some air, Sibley shares a cigarette with a handsome stranger. He sits so close his thigh is pressed against hers and she can smell his cologne through the smoke. 

Sibley was starting to regret her choices. Shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, she took in the view of the party around her. She gripped her half empty solo cup as she watched everyone else enjoy themselves while she stood in the corner. 

She had tagged along with a sort-of-friend. So excited by the invitation alone that she didn't even care the girl was someone she barely knew. With a huff she couldn’t help but chastise herself now. It should’ve been obvious from a mile away that once she arrived she would be stranded alone, lost with no clue what to do.

The beer in her cup tasted warm and flat, but she didn’t seem to mind as long as she had something to do. Scanning the room again, Sibley noticed the french door leading to the porch which seemed empty. Trying to escape the crowd, she made a beeline for the exit, sighing as she stepped into the chilly night air. 

The space was mostly empty, obviously the patio furniture had been packed away once summer was over, but there was still a small wooden bench available. Unfortunately for her, there was already an occupant, a boy with dark hair puffing on a cigarette and staring off into the distance. She tried to move as quietly as possible while taking a seat.

Sibley couldn’t help but chastise herself as she searched her pockets for that one loosey she had. She had pulled all the stops trying to persuade her foster parents to let her attend the party. Lying that she was good friends with the girl who and invited her and insisting it was more of a slumber party than a house party. 

Floki, her foster-dad, had been very apprehensive, but his wife Helga took her side, saying it would be good for Sibley to go out and socialize since she was new at school. “Anyway,” Helga added with a shrug. “It’s mostly likely some of Ragnar’s sons will be there, I’m sure they’ll look out for her.” 

Now it seemed all that effort was for naught as she wished she had stayed home in her bed. 

Sibley found the lone cig, placing it between her lips and then moving to grab her lighter. Fuck. Of course she didn't have one on her. She let out an exhale, blowing air through her nose as she surrendered, turning to the boy beside her.

“You got a light?” she asked, trying to keep her tone even and not sound as disgruntled as she felt. 

The stranger rolled his eyes before reaching to pluck the cigarette from her grasp. He placed it between his lips, using his own which was half smoked, to ignite the end. Taking two light puffs he made sure it was burning evenly then passed it back to Sibley.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, giving a slight jerk of her head while turning her eyes away as he merely grunted in response. 

She took long slow drags, trying to make the one cigarette last as long as she could. The night was pitch black,  overcast with clouds obscuring any illumination from the stars or moon. Beyond the ten foot radius of the porch lamp, she could see nothing. Due to this she kept finding her attention being drawn back to the boy next to her.

He seemed vaguely familiar. He looked about her age, so she guessed they were in the same year at school. ‘We’ve probably crossed paths in the hallway between classes,’ she told herself, trying to insist her fascination with him was purely born out of curiosity and not because of the way he looked. 

Definitely not because of how he looked as he sat, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, lips pursed as he pulled from his cigarette, the cotton of his t-shirt pulled taught over his back showing the pronounced difference in his muscles. It also had nothing to do with the way his cologne smelt as she caught a whiff with the down breeze. There was definitely nothing about the way the smell of sandalwood mixed with the smoke that she found alluring.

Sibley was nearly burning the filter when a gaggle of giggling girls burst out the door. She immediately recognized one of them as the classmate that had invited her. Their expressions lit up as they noticed who was already outside. 

The girls gushed as they squeezed onto the bench, forcing Sibley to make room by sliding over until she was right up against the boy. 

“Soooo,” the one in the center spoke first leaning forward as she either playfully drew out the syllables, or drunkenly slurred her speech — Sibley wasn’t quite sure. “What have you and Ivar been doing out here on the porch alone, hmm?”

“What?” Completely taken aback at being put on the spot like this, Sibley looked over her shoulder at the boy but he showed no change in expression. “N-nothing I’ve just been smoking.” she dropped the butt, stamping out the embers with her boot to emphasise her point. 

“Boo-oo, that’s no fun,” the third said as she drew her own cig to her mouth. Halfway through taking a drag her eyes snapped open wide. All three of them squealed as they registered the bass line of the song beginning to play in the living room. They all began to exclaim their affection for the track—which Sibley had never heard of—and rose from their seats to hurry back inside. Amidst the shuffle one of the girls handed her barely smoked cigarette off to Sibley without a second thought. 

Leaning back she sighed, happy to have a continued excuse to stay away from the crowd indoors. That is until she took a puff. Once the smoke hit her throat she started coughing, discarding the cig in an nearby ashtray as she mumbled to herself, “Fuck, I hate menthols.”

“You could’ve asked me for one.” Sibley was caught completely by surprise as the boy next to her spoke. Only now, as she looked to him did she realize just how close they now sat on the bench, their outer thighs press against each other’s. 

“Excuse me?” She questioned, gazing at him as he gave her another incredulous look, drawing two more cigarettes from a polished silver case. He held both with his lips while flicking a matching zippo lighter. He took the same small puffs as before, insuring the ends burned evenly, then grabbed each with either hand, passing one to her. After a moment of caution she accepted, noticing the cig was hand rolled as she brought it to her lips. 

After she received the cigarette, his hand dropped to her thigh. “I’ve noticed you staring at me,” he stated, lifting his own cig with two fingers, letting the exhaled smoke snake over his top lip into his nostrils. Sibley was frozen as he began to draw small circles along the denim that covered her inner thigh, his walm palm slowly inching its way up, nearer towards her apex.

“I-I, uh, I’m j-just here to smok—,” Sibley stammered, trying to give a cohesive answer when she was interrupted by the door swinging open again. She gave a silent prayer to God as the new comer began to speak, obviously addressing the boy, who had instantly drawn his hand back.

“Ivar, we’ve been looking for you,” he began stepping forward. “Hvitserk and I are heading out,” he trailed off as his eyes came to rest on the fact that his baby brother was sitting very close to a girl. His expression changed almost instantly as he held out a hand this girl, “Hello, I’m Ubbe, Ivar’s brother.”

She nodded slightly, giving his and a weak shake and replying, “I’m Sibley.” 

“Wait, no,” Ubbe responded in a jovial tone that was obviously influenced by alcohol. “You’re not Floki’s Sibley are you?”

“Yeah, actually.” She gave a sort-of shake of her head as she avoid eye contact, flicking the ash from her cigarette. “I’ve been living with them for about two months now.”

“That’s wonderful!” He exclaimed, holding his hands up. “Ivar you hadn’t tell me you were friends with her! This is terrific, you should come over tomorrow and meet everyone else—”

Ivar cleared his throat, derailing Ubbe’s train of thought as he clarified, “We’re not friends, we’ve only met just now.” 

Ubbe was obviously too far gone to let his younger brother’s bitterness get to him as he carried on. “Well still, Sibley, you Floki and Helga should all come over for lunch tomorrow. I’ll grill hamburgers. But anyway, Ivar we’re heading out, you coming with?”

Sibley gave a vague enough gesture for Ubbe to take as confirmation while the boy beside her gathered his crutches and rose from his seat. Keeping her gaze forward, she watched Ivar out of the corner of her eye while he followed his brother. Reaching the door he stopped, pivoting to face her. She couldn’t help but look over her shoulder to where he stood.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” And with that he maneuvered his way over the threshold, slamming the door behind hard enough for the panes of glass to rattle. 


	4. Friday Night Prompt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring time prompt for Ivar from ifinkufreaky

 

> SPRING PROMPT: bombinate (v.): to make a humming or buzzing noise OR efflorescence (n.): the state or a period of flowering

You couldn’t help but succumb efflorescence of the spring air around you. The the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun was better than any blanket as the long grass made a soft bed for you to lay in. Soon your eyes drifted shut while the to the whistle of the wind blowing through the branches married beautifully with the echoing bird songs, both lulling you into a calm slumber.

Some time later, there was a slight chirp that roused you. Unsure of how long you had actually drifted off for, you blinked your eyes open to find a small cricket sitting on an early blossom in front of you. Laying curled on your side with one arm tucked under your head, you studied the way the insect’s wings twitched with each sound. You smiled to yourself, enjoying the new born nature that engulfed you, until you noticed you were not alone.

Once the visage of the youngest prince laying beside to you came into focus, you nearly jumped out of your skin. Scurrying, you hoped to gather the basket of linens in some attempt to appear liked you hadn’t been napping when you should have been working.

Ivar’s hand shot forward, his fingers clamping painfully around your upper arm. His hold kept you from moving, keeping you in place as you avoided his eye contact.

“You’ve already been caught. What’s the point of running now?” His grasp tensed around your bicep as your worried eyes met his. He wore his signature smirk, the one akin to a cat as it toyed with it’s prey—a comparison you found uncomfortably fitting.

“Don’t run away little mouse,” he teased, seeming to read your mind. You hesitated before settling back onto the flatten blades of grass.

“Ar-are you going to tell—,” you began to stutter, scared to ask the question.

“I will not tell my mother,” Ivar finished in a kind voice, though you could tell by the glint of his eyes this offer was not charity. “If you do something for me.”

“Wha-what do you wish?” you questioned, already knowing that no matter his request, you were duty bound as a slave to fulfill it. You shied from his burning gaze, hearing the ideas in his head bombinating louder than all the insects that buzzed around both you.

“I will not tell my mother of this,” he began, speaking slow and clear, making sure his words could not be misconstrued. “If you let me touch you as I please.”

You swallowed hard, watching him while you took a split second to deliberate the choice. Though you feared Ivar’s inclination for cruelty, you erred on the side of caution that he merely wished to fondle your breasts—something which sounded much more pleasant that getting lashed. Coming to a final decision, you ducked your chin, giving him a slight but affirmative nod. Without hesitation, Ivar rolled his body on top of yours, resting his hand on your rib cage as his mouth dove for the space between your shoulders and neck.


	5. Ivar and Fangs

You could feel your body relax as you walked into the apartment. Finally you were home after a long day, but there was barely a moment of respite before you heard something unsettling. 

“Hey Babe?” Ivar called from down the hall, there was a slight waiver to his voice that put you on edge, your whole body tensing up all over again. 

“What’s going on?” You shout back, dropping your computer bag to the floor before heading towards the bathroom —that’s where it sounded like he was coming from. After tossing your winter  coat aimlessly towards the couch you rounded the corner, finding your boyfriend facing the mirror.

Ivar pivoted as best he could, turning around so he rested back against the sink before looking at you. His usual scowl was absent as he met your eye and stated, “I… I think I have fangs.”

“What?” you sputtered, utterly confused as he dropped his jaw to reveal the two pointed teeth at either side of those buck teeth you loved to tease him about, all tucked away behind his full lips. 

“What the fuck?” Cautiously you reached forward, bringing your index finger to his left fang you pushed the pad of your finger tip against the point when it shifted. “Wait a minute,” you mumbled, trailing as you pinched the fake tooth, pulling it loose. 

“You liar!” 

Ivar couldn't hold back his laugh, enjoying your annoyed expression as you threw the prosthetic, just barely missing him for it to land in the sink.

“Hey—,” He fought to catch your hands, eventually clamping his fists around your wrists, keeping you from swatting at his face, “Hey, hey, I’m sorry! How about I make it up to you?”

“Oh? And how are you going to do that?” You did the best you could to make you voice drip with disdain to ensure he was appropriately aware of your discontent. 

“You know that dinner theater you always talk about wanting to go to? The one next to the record store downtown?” Ivar began, rubbing his thumbs against your palms as he continued to hold your wrists immobile against his chest. “What if I told you they’re doing a musical version of Dracula tonight and I reserved the front table.”

“Are you kidding?” You couldn’t help but ask, as you studied his expression for a tell he way bluffing, though you knew how good Ivar’s poker face was.

“Nope. Show’s at nine, you should go take a shower and get ready,” he suggested, placing a peck on your cheek before exiting the bathroom to finish dressing himself.


End file.
